


Of Winters Long Past

by UndiscoveredQueen19



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Disney Princesses, Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Childhood, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23445652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndiscoveredQueen19/pseuds/UndiscoveredQueen19
Summary: Some winters are more memorable than others. Some winters are gateways to discoveries that are colder than the snow falling outside. Some winters put a chill in your bones and a fear in your heart. Some winters leave a scar.
Kudos: 5
Collections: Favorite Frozen Fanfics





	Of Winters Long Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! I've posted this story elsewhere, but I wanted to share it here as well. This is just a short oneshot that takes place shortly before the beginning of Frozen, when Elsa and Anna are little. I was inspired to write this by King Agnarr's line at the start of the film, when he says, "Elsa, this is getting out of hand!" It made me wonder what kinds of things had happened before the start of the movie. So this is my first (and maybe only) contribution to the Frozen fanfiction community. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Crackle. Crackle. Crackle.

A long, slow hiss, then the unmistakable sound of settling.

Crackle. Crackle. Fizz.

The fire continued its calming sounds as Elsa stirred in her sleep, sitting up and rubbing her bleary eyes. She could hear Anna snoring softly from the other side of the room. A glance out the window told Elsa it was still nighttime, the full moon casting a ghostly glow over the snow-covered fjords. Elsa cracked a smile as she remembered the previous day’s activities.

Anna never seemed to tire of watching Elsa work her ice powers. She could sit for hours, mesmerized by the tiny crystals of ice that sparkled and twirled and danced through the air like so many fairies. Sometimes, Elsa thought Anna went under some sort of spell while she gazed, her eyes glassy and her mouth open, transfixed. It amused Elsa, but it also kept her in check.

It was far too easy to go overboard. Elsa enjoyed making snowmen and snow mounds and ice sculptures, no doubt; but it was the moments when she didn’t mean to do anything that scared her – those moments when she would be standing still, leaning against a table or a pillar, when it would suddenly begin to freeze over, transforming into another monument to Elsa’s mysterious powers.

It was those moments that frightened her witless, when she couldn’t feel the magic leaving her body and flowing to create something else. It just happened, and she had no idea what she had done until someone else pointed it out. She couldn’t help but wonder, what else could happen? What else might she accidentally freeze over and not know about? Could it be dangerous?

Elsa had only seen seven winters during her lifetime, but in a land such as Arendelle, it only took one winter to know how dangerous ice and snow could be. The image of an ice harvester, stabbed through the heart with a needle-sharp icicle, was burned into her memory from the day she had seen it. The man had not died immediately, but ice to the heart could be life-threatening, so it was whispered.

Elsa never knew if the ice harvester had lived or died. She hoped he had lived. His little boy was only three when it happened, and Elsa hoped he didn’t remember it as clearly as she did.

Crackle. Crackle. Crackle.

Elsa glanced at the fireplace, snuggling further down into her blankets. She never seemed to get as cold as Anna did in the wintertime, but she still appreciated the comfort of her warm bed.

It took several more minutes of crackling for Elsa to realize that the crackling sound wasn’t coming from the fire.

She glanced up when the first sound came from above her head. She gasped, sitting straight up and twisting under the covers to take in her headboard. The violet embellishments on the wood had taken on a shade of white, glazed over with ice crystals that crackled and adjusted themselves seemingly at their own volition.

Elsa shot a terrified look at her hands. She wasn’t controlling the crystals’ movements.

Yet still they spread, higher and higher, slowly climbing up the headboard and onto the bedposts. When the bed-curtains began to be overtaken with the ice, Elsa leaped out of bed, hugging her pillow tightly as if to ward off the magic she herself had created. The frost quickly overtook the bedposts, freezing them into rock-solid pillars that sizzled more loudly than the flames in the fireplace did.

The curtains solidified much quicker than the wooden bed-frame had; within seconds, the canopy was a blanket of ice. Elsa opened her mouth to call someone, but found that her voice was frozen in her throat from fear. What was happening? Had she done this? Surely the winter had not found its way through the walls of the castle! Elsa stole a glance at Anna, still sleeping in her bed, thoroughly exhausted from the day before.

Elsa took another step back, trying to distance herself from the bed that was quickly becoming an ice sculpture. The sizzling was turning into an ominous breaking noise, and Elsa could see the tiniest hint of a crack in the icy overhead canopy as the frost spread over her blankets.

Finally, Elsa took control of her senses once more and took several more steps back. However, staring at the bed as she was, she missed her footing and stepped on the back of her nightgown, landing hard on her backside. She scrambled backwards, noticing the sudden chill that was working its way up her spine. The crack in the canopy was getting larger, and Elsa threw aside the pillow she had been clutching, suddenly noticing that icy handprints had been stamped onto either side of the pillow.

As Elsa regained her footing, she circled around to the other side of her bed, closer to the fireplace, as well as the door to the hallway. Elsa didn’t know what her parents could do to fix the problem; only that she wanted them near her. She glanced up at the canopy and gasped sharply.  
The ice was glowing red.

It had never been any color other than a snowy blue-white. Elsa felt goosebumps wash over her skin, and she broke into a run toward the door.  
The crack was louder than Elsa thought it would be. It split the frozen-solid canopy in half and shattered it on the bedspread, which cracked under the pressure. The frost-covered wood splintered and fell to the floor in a deafening crash, and Elsa sank to her knees, hands over her mouth.

She had never destroyed anything in her life.

The crash awoke Anna, who sat bolt upright in bed, staring at Elsa with eyes as wide as saucers. Elsa could see the tears forming in her little sister’s eyes and knew she only had moments to act.

Elsa knew how much Anna loved the ice magic. Seeing a familiar object destroyed by her idolized sister’s powers would be potentially traumatizing, and Elsa knew she had to cover up her own fear somehow. If Anna came to see the magic as dangerous, she would view Elsa as some sort of magical monster.  
Elsa pushed her stomach-churning fear to the side and forced a smile on her face, turning to face Anna. She raised her trembling hands and smiled wider, creating a little whirlwind of snowflakes between her open palms.

“See, Anna?” she implored, inching closer to Anna’s bed. “Everything is okay. I was just playing.”

Anna’s lip quivered, her four-year-old mind trying to rationalize the situation.

Elsa tried again, hoping her voice sounded calm. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. See the snowflakes? Look how pretty they are!” Elsa sent two snowflakes twirling around one another and propelled them to spin in front of Anna. “Look, they like you!”

Anna’s eyes brightened slightly and she smiled, reaching her tiny hands out for the delicate flakes. Elsa maneuvered them just out of her reach.

“I think they’re sleepy,” she added. “It’s time for the snowflakes to go back to sleep. Why don’t you join them, okay?”

Anna nodded as the twin snowflakes came to rest on her pillow, closing her eyes and sighing contentedly.

Elsa breathed a sigh of relief. She was terrified that Anna would notice her fear, but her quick thinking had put a stop to that. Casting a glance at the splintered bed, Elsa saw that the ice was no longer red, but had returned to its normal color as she calmed down. She stored it in her memory to ponder another day.

She could hear footsteps coming down the hall to investigate the crash, so she bolted for the door and slid into the hallway, easing the door shut so as not to wake Anna.

Gerda was only a few yards away, her hair falling over her shoulders as she fought a yawn. “Elsa?” she asked in a loud whisper. “What are you doing out of bed? What was that noise?”

“I-I… I was just going to get a drink of water,” she said quickly. “But it’s okay. I’m not thirsty anymore.”

Gerda frowned. “What was that crash? I could hear it all the way in my room.”

“Um… I tripped.” It wasn’t an outright lie, but Elsa still felt bad telling it.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Elsa assured her. “I’ll go back to bed now.”

Gerda nodded. “Come on, I’ll tuck you in.”

“No!” Elsa protested. “I mean… I’ll be okay. You can go back to bed.”

Gerda looked at her suspiciously. “Elsa, are you sure everything is all right?”

“I’m sure,” Elsa replied.

“Just the same, I’m going to check.”

“No…” Elsa tried to say, but it was too late. Gerda was already pushing the door open.

Now Gerda would see the bed, frozen and lying in pieces on the floor. She would scream and wake up everyone in the castle, including Anna. Anna would sit up and cry, thinking her big sister was a monster. Their parents would be so ashamed. What if they sent her away? Or locked her in the dungeons? It was a nightmare.

Elsa braced herself for the coming scream of fright and disbelief, but none came. She peeked her eyes open and stuck her head back into her room, only to see Gerda checking on Anna in her bed. Elsa frowned and looked back at her own bed, then gasped.

The bed was exactly as it had been before the accident.

Gerda tutted quietly as she made her way to the fireplace and stoked the flames with the fire poker. “It’s colder than the fjords in here, Elsa,” she whispered. “It’s no wonder you couldn’t sleep.”

Elsa simply nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the bed. It looked just as it had when she went to bed the evening before, dark pinewood posts and panels covered with a pale blue canopy and bedspread. Her pillow lay on the floor where she had dropped it, but upon closer inspection, the handprints she had previously seen were gone as well.

Gerda helped Elsa back into bed, fluffing her pillows and pulling the covers up to her chin. She smiled as she patted Elsa on the head. “No more getting up now, all right?”

Elsa nodded and watched Gerda’s retreating form as she closed the door behind her. Elsa glanced at Anna to make sure she was asleep and sat up, turning around to gaze up at her canopy.

The curtains were soft to the touch again, and no crack stretched like a canyon across the top of her canopy. The covers were warm, as though frost had not pervaded them only moments before. Elsa flipped her pillow over and over, looking for any evidence that her frozen handprints had left behind; there was none. The dark pinewood posts were solid once more as well.

Elsa sat back on her feet, examining the bed and turning over the events in her mind. Had it all been a dream? Was it possible that she had imagined it?  
It couldn’t be! Gerda had heard the crash. Elsa looked back at Anna’s bed and saw two tiny water spots on her pillow where the snowflakes had melted. It hadn’t been a dream.

Elsa laid back on her pillow. It was a mystery, but she decided it wasn’t worth worrying about all night. The bed was in fine condition, no one was hurt, and she would be more conscious about keeping her powers at bay. As only a seven-year-old can do, the incident was quickly forgotten by Elsa and replaced by happier memories of playing in the snow and laughing with Anna.

However, the pinewood bed, with its pale blue canopy and bedspread, would bear a scar from that night for the rest of its days; for on the headboard, slashing through elegant purple scrolling, was a single long, white streak.


End file.
